Last Wednesday I was once again priviledged enough to have the displeasure of enduring the train journey from TheMiddleOfNowhere to Hell, or more commonly reffered to as Aberystwyth to Hastings. The first train was crowded and stuffy, although stuffy is perhaps a bit of a misleading term - when I say stuffy, what I really mean is blistering heat and about enough oxygen that would ensure that a flea would have trouble breathing. And then South Eastern trains managed to demonstrate to everyone that they were not satisfied with merely having delays like most other train operaters when the 20:45 from Charing Cross failed to show up completely, giving us an oppurtunity to suffer a "meal" at Burger King, if indeed the burger shaped pieces of plastic they give you there can be classed as food at all. Eventually we arrived at Battle station, only to disembark from the train and be greeted with the unmistakable smell of the south east - a strange fusion between pollution and rising damp. I was allegedly, as my nose was ever keen to point out, home.
The day after I decided to brave Hastings whilst it was gripped by the seasonal related shopping panic that most townsexperience at around this time every year. This was in itself a very frightening and daunting prospect. Hastings isn't exactly what you would call a big place, but when you are used to Aberystwyth then it is quite a shock. Even more amusing was the fact that when I got off the bus, the first thing I saw was that of alarm bells coming from McDonalds with a group of chavs and a police car outside it. If you ever needed a picture to represent Hastings, then that would be it. Thankfully, the chrsitmas shopping this year peased without too many problems, which is good because it almost makes up for the fact that everything I have seems to be breaking at the moment. I blame the south east. After the shopping was out of the way, I then spent two days engaged in the enviable task of balancing on a a chair trying to shove drawing pins in the celing in an attempt to make the decorations stay up against their wishes, the end result being that our house is now covered in so many gold and silver shiny things that if a Magpie was to hypothetically come inside then it would most likely go into cardac arrest. Yesterday evening I went out to Wetherspoons. It was really good to see old friends again. What was less good, however, was the fact the the 'spoons here waters down their drinks. Cheap bastards.
Looks like I'm going to be busy over Christmas, mainly involving meeting of family, friends and of course several days that I have reserved purely for the purposes of eating. Well, if it stops me being bored then I can't really complain.
Until next time people, and remember to be extra vigilant of tax-evading fat blokes in red suits attempting to gain entry to your premises by chimneys so that they can unload (probably stolen) goods in your living room...
